


new and a bit alarming

by princegrantaire



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 06:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13452276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrantaire/pseuds/princegrantaire
Summary: It’s not until Bruce actually gets to the kitchen that things start taking a turn for the worse. It’s not Alfred, as he expected, but Joker’s distinct silhouette standing in the moonlit room. He’s baking in the dark. That’s apparently the sort of thing Joker occupies himself with these days.





	new and a bit alarming

It’s still dark when Bruce gets home from patrol -- already a treat in itself, he’s barely made it back before dawn this past week-- and he feels only a little bad when he hears noises from the kitchen as he trudges up the stairs.

Alfred must have waited for him, despite Bruce’s earlier reassurances that tonight’s been mostly quiet. He appreciates the company all the same.

It’s not until Bruce actually gets to the kitchen that things start taking a turn for the worse. It’s not Alfred, as he expected, but Joker’s distinct silhouette standing in the moonlit room. He’s baking in the dark. That’s apparently the sort of thing Joker occupies himself with these days.

Bruce remembers that familiar spike of fear but doesn’t feel its full impact. He’s still too aware of the lack of armour, of _anything_ really, he’s wearing nothing but the undersuit after all, standing between him and Joker.  _The_ Joker. He draws in a sharp breath.

Joker, for his part, doesn’t seem too fazed by the interruption, though he does turn around to face Bruce, still holding onto a bowl of batter, and gives one of his more sentimental smiles.

“You made it!” he exclaims, excited, like he hasn’t broken into Bruce’s house for no apparent reason.

It’s still new, this thing between them, and Bruce rarely knows where they stand. _God_ , it looks like everyone’s sleeping but Joker could have-- Joker could have done nothing. Not now. Bruce’s racing heart refuses to listen.

Another step inside brings him firmly in the middle of a small puddle of something yet unidentified. Bruce sighs and turns on the lights. It’s just water. No blood, no viscera, just his now wet socks on the tiled floor. A cursory glance around the kitchen reveals several other accidents of the sort, flour here and there, along with what might be chocolate and the like.

Joker is erratic and distracted at the best of times. Bruce isn’t surprised, _shouldn’t_ be, no matter what the absurd ache in his chest is saying.

“Why are you here?” he asks when he means _hello_. It’s eighty percent instinct by now and Bruce is too tired to play nice.

A shrug is the only answers Bruce gets for a while. Joker seems to need more time to adjust to the sudden light than Bruce’s presence. He’s blinking at Bruce, head tilted, bowl still clutched in those bony hands Bruce has become too familiar with these past few months.

“I’m making brownies,” Joker finally settles on, a glimpse of awkwardness for a split second, as if it’s only now dawned on him where he is.

Bruce nods, nowhere near satisfied, and goes to take a shower and change. He would have done it down in the cave if he hadn’t been interrupted by the inexplicable brownie-making venture. Leaving Joker to his own devices for fifteen minutes feels like a safe enough bet. That thought should be more concerning.

\---

When Bruce returns, now clad in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, Joker seems to have given up on the brownies. He’s pulled himself on a counter, far enough from the edge that he can actually swing his legs childishly.

They haven’t gotten any better at talking. Joker’s always been all about grand gestures, most likely romantic only to himself, and Bruce has long tried to trade any sensibilities for direct action. They’re a good match, all things considered.

Joker needs to be gone by morning, Bruce still hasn’t found it in himself to explain any of _this_ to the boys or worse, Alfred. He can picture the disappointment already, the lump in his throat is a familiar one. He screws his eyes shut for a second then navigates his way around the miniature disasters littering the kitchen floor.

“Oh, darling,” Joker breathes out. Bruce, oddly enough, thinks he might just understand.

Something must have brought Joker here. He looks _fine_ , healthy enough for his standards, which really only amounts to not being minutes away from collapsing. He’s unnaturally quiet though, contemplative even. Bruce used to think only Arkham and all it has to offer could get him like that.

“I didn’t know you baked,” Bruce remarks and aims for a smile. It’s not Brucie Wayne’s million-watt smile, it’s as good as real. It might even _be_ real. He can never tell anymore.

That gets a sort of giggle out of Joker and he leaps straight into Bruce’s arms. If it’s a hug, it’s an ill-fated one. Bruce’s brain insists that no one coming at him like that has ever been good news and his armful of clown gets dropped to the floor almost immediately. He winces in sympathy.

“Ow,” Joker says, unnecessarily. “There’s lots you don’t know,” he adds as he picks himself up.

His suit jacket has been abandoned somewhere along the way and he looks downright skeletal, sleeves rolled up to reveal bone-white bleached skin. Bruce doesn’t want to think _fragile_ , not when it comes to the likes of Joker, but he comes dangerously close. He knows better than most what Joker is capable of surviving.

Joker’s an optimist, if nothing else. The fact that he proceeds to jump into Bruce’s arms again is proof enough of that. Bruce actually holds onto him this time. He feels warm all over.

“Don’t break in again,” Bruce says but he’s kissing Joker as soon as he finishes talking, familiar and not at all hurried. It must be nearing 3 AM. They’ve got a few hours to waste together.

“No promises.”

Still, Joker beams at him and nods, contradictory to the last word. Bruce only pulls him closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! [Find me on tumblr!](http://ufonaut.tumblr.com/)


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